


Morris Island Anthology

by inopinion



Category: Virals Series - Kathy Reichs
Genre: Shorts, Snippets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 14:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13637772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inopinion/pseuds/inopinion
Summary: Short scenes and head canons about what may have happened just beyond the series. Mostly Tory and Ben.





	1. Date at the Docks

**The Virals Series needs more fanfiction, so I'm here to help.**

Thanks to a tuna fish sandwich, I did not have to face down an entire evening of wedding planning. Kit had a simplistic desire to be married in a place of natural beauty, and so he proposed we drive out to Cape Romaine Wildlife Refuge. Whitney, of course, wanted something more traditional with a modern flair and thought Boone Hall Plantation and Gardens would be exactly the southern charm she needed. She'd made an appointment with their event planner, had planned a picnic, and packed the bug spray. Diner was to be al fresco at the end of a self-guided walk of the refuge. I was still in mildly hot water over my attendance record being mailed to his office rather than where I could intercept it. My grades hadn't dipped more than a couple percent and so he was holding me hostage on principle. Plus he thought wedding planning as a family would be the exact start we needed in this new life of togetherness. Blargh.

But, like I said, thanks to a tuna fish sandwich and Hiram's impossibly sensitive stomach, Mr. Blue had to wait at the dock for an additional twenty minutes. It was exactly the time I needed, as the text came just when Hiram staggered to the docks.

_Can't miss the appointment at the plantation. Feed yourself. No going out._

I texted back: _Hiram should be here any minute, maybe five more?_

He replied: _Can't. Late as it is._

Kit accepted most of my excuses on face value, it was one of the better aspects of our relationship, but showing some interest in the activities of Whitney's designs got me bonus points, so the small white lie really hurt no one.

"Never again," Hi groaned. We hadn't even cleared the dock before he was over the edge.

Shelton and I shadowed the two middle-school kids that also lived on Morris to the front of the boat.

"So, what's the plans for the weekend? Bank heist?" Shelton adjusted his glasses and kept one eye on Hiram's folded form.

"Calculus. I haven't started the assignment yet."

"Oh, tisk tisk. It's a killer. Took me all night last night to get through half. I'm gonna be hitting up the Call of Duty tonight though, little treat for keeping my nose clean for two weeks."

"Have fun."

"Yeah. But we're going out tomorrow, right?" Shelton alluded to the pre-planned boating expedition to our favorite beach on loggerhead.

Even without my abilities, I felt like I needed to see Whisper and her pack. Like watching them would help me remember that connection. There was a good chance I'd come away upset or crying, but still, I needed to see them.  
"I assume so. I haven't heard otherwise," I shrugged.

Shelton raised an eyebrow. Ben was our ride, always, but he'd only managed to slip a few texts to Shelton on a friend's phone in the last two weeks. His resilience through the class skipping wasn't quite as high as mine and an emergency conference with his parents rendered him without a phone, without a car, and without a social life. It's been a bit of a hard start for our relationship, as in a non-starter. It still stung a bit that every message seemed to go to Shelton, all three of them. I shouldn't mope about it, but still, I was feeling more than uncertain about what exactly I should be expecting now that we'd assigned the labels of boyfriend and girlfriend to each other.

Another volley of overly loud vomit kept me in the here and now. I'd be at the docks in the morning, waiting to see what had changed from our last group ride out to Loggerhead. At least if it got weird, I'd have Coop and the wolf pack to keep me distracted.

Unfortunately, Friday nights had little in the way of televised entertainment. So while I attempted to procrastinate and put off the complexities of nested integrals, I made plenty of headway, enough to question if I had the right assignment. I even sent a confiramtion text to Shelton and got a positive response. But by seven o'clock, all my problems were done and what remained of my weekend assignments was seventy pages of reading for AP English. I turned my attention to The Age of Innocence and let the TV play in the background.

An hour, eight o'clock and I could imagine Kit and Whitney taking in the beauty of the refuge and I sort of wished I was there. Sort of, not really, okay I would love to see the refuge and I wouldn't mind a little more time with Kit. Besides, the wedding was important to him and he was undeniably important to me. As my stomach growled, I could even admit I wished I had a little bit of Whitney's picnic basket.

Lazily, I palmed my phone up off the table and gasped. It was still on silent from school which had meant I'd missed a message from Ben.

_At my dad's tonight, you around?_

What did that mean? More importantly, in two weeks of radio silence, did I even want to come clamoring to his sudden beck and call? Shouldn't I at least feign being angry? A glance at the time stamp - 7:12 - and at least I wouldn't look desperate replying.

I wrote: _Just finished some homework. What's up?_

What's up? Yeah, that's how you hook 'em. I waited. Two minutes. Three. I turned on the notifications so I'd at least hear it and went to address my hunger in the kitchen. I made a sandwich, tossed a couple slices of meat to Coop and eyed the baking show on the TV with little interest. Still, no reply. What a start, maybe an ending. It hurt, not that I'd dare let it show, because what was there to hurt over?

Three fast raps on the door and butterflies swarmed my stomach and floated up into my throat. Was he skipping the electronic communications?  
Ben had cut off shorts and a trim, black t-shirt that looked slightly too small for his frame. It might have fit him in the spring or at Christmas, but he'd grown both taller and stronger in the time I'd known him. His hair was tucked back behind his ears and a slight pink coated his cheeks. Those long lashes saved him sweeping away those prickly thoughts I'd just been fostering.

"So, you wanna come out with me?" He fought the smile that threatened to crack his face.

"Yeah, sure. Where?"

"Just the dock," he shrugged, then added, "Is that okay?"

Ben looked legitimately worried, like I wasn't known to hang out on docks with moody boys and would be offend to partake. Coop rushed the door.

"Lead the way."

His hand slipped out of his pocket and extended for mine. Would I ever get used to it? His elbow bent and pulled me into his side, which seemed like an expert move, had he used it on other girls? How many other girls? Why was I having dumb, over analyzing thoughts in the first place. I turned by attention to the feel of him: warm and solid; the smell of him: men's sport deodorant and docks; and his body language: stiff, but not anxious. I took a deep breath of the salt air and shrugged my shoulders a few times to relax. It was Ben, just Ben. Just Ben-the-boyfriend doing the first boyfriend things… no sweat.

On the dock, he had one pole already cast into the water, another, presumably for me, sitting on the dock. Three buckets and a cooler. An already opened bottle of fancy root-beer was next to one bucket (his seat).

"So, what I miss? Felonies? Misdemeanors?" he asked, dropping my hand to take his seat and open the cooler.

He pulled out another bottle and dug his keys out of his pocket, digging deeper for his pocket knife. He used the bottle opener even though it was probably a twist off. But, sure, cool points, I guess.

"I've been on psuedo-house arrest, so not much. Wedding crap, homework, mostly. All-in-all, quiet. You?"

"Well, grounded. Redefining nothing."

"How bad were the grades?"

"Three B's. Nothing major. I've done worse at Bolton, but apparently the standards are different now that I'm at Wando."

Ben lifted the second pole and offered it to me. I examine it and confirm it's the same one from the last time we went fishing. The lure is the same shiny disk and feather combination. I lean over and look at his bucket. Nothing in it but water.

"We can toss them back. But I was hoping for dinner," he smirks. "You remember how to cast?"

"Yeah, I think so." Setting the feed, holding it with my finger I pulled the pole back and launched the line out beyond the dock into the deeper water. Ben's lips were tight and his smirk never slipped. "What?"

"Nothing. You fish how ever you wanna."

"What I do?" I insisted.

"Nothing. Just… I mean, fish like cover. Under the dock, by the boats, but you try the open water," he waved his hand at his own line that dipped below his father's ferry boat.

"Fine, I'll reset it," I started reeling it in. "Call it practice."

"Sure, practice," he sipped his soda and then got quiet. "Not the best first date, eh?"

I watched the lure under the gentle waves then pop through the surface. Was this a date? A first date? Did this count? It was after school, almost dark, no parents, no friends, he even brought refreshments. His hand curled into a fist on his knee, those Blue-moods coming to the surface. "It's a very Ben first date." I offered, kindly and with a smile. For good measure I pulled the pole back and released it, landing off the end of the dock.

"What's a Tory-date? You know, for next time?"

"You have to ask?" I raise an eyebrow and glance at Sewee parked in it's slip down the dock.

"Always wolves with you."

"Use my predictability to your advantage," a small nudge from my knee and he slid his bucket closer to me.

"How's this supposed to go?" Ben asked, looking at the water, watching his line. We're shoulder to shoulder like we have been on countless occasions, but I can't recall ever having quite the same queasy feeling.

"I dunno. New to me."

"I sorta didn't think much past this."

"Well, this is nice," I declared, sipping from the soda in my hand. I see his on his knee, palm up, offering. His fingers are slightly chilled from the glass.

"So, why'd you text Shelton?"

His hand flinches in mine. "Only number I have memorized. Two-zero-zero-seven. Double-oh-seven. I had to borrow a phone from a friend. Only let me the once because he almost got it confiscated."

"Oh. Okay." More silence, the lapping waves, the bugs coming out for the night. Coop dashed through the grass and onto the dock, sticking his head into the space between Ben and I.

"Chaperons," Ben groaned, pushing Coop away and getting licked for his effort.

"Oh, yeah, did you get rules?" I asked.

"Rules? About?"

"Me."

"Oh, no, not specifically about you, just about girlfriends, but I don't even know if my mom remembers it."

"You've dated before?"

"Like middle-school, before Bolton. You?"

"Nope, not really, well, about the same, I guess," I blushed at the memory of those make-out sessions behind Dunkin Donuts.

"So, rules?"

"Oh, Kit made sure we had the talk and everything. Apparently, seventeen-year-old boys are single minded. I think my existence sort of freaked him out."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Kit was seventeen when—you know—I happened."

"Oh. Right. Well, I mean, that's not gonna happen like right away or anything." Instant awkwardness. I created instant awkwardness.

"Look, it better to be upfront about things, right? Talk about them? Anyways, Kit says we can't hang out alone at each other's houses, curfew—strictly enforced—and he wants to know if we go places where we're going and when we'll be back."

"Okay. Sure," Ben nodded. "But this is okay, right?"

"Yep."

Then Ben's arm moved around my shoulder, a smooth movement that tickled my stomach back into butterflies. "And this is okay?"

"Mmm-hmm." My breathing stepped up and the sweat kicked on.  
His face next to mine, his arm pulling on my knees, rotating me on the bucket so we faced each other, his right knee between mine. "This is okay?"

Dear God, Ben had moves. Good moves. Moves that melted me and made my skin pimple into goose bumps. I nodded. Leaning forward our lips touched just slightly, enough for his breath to puff onto my chin. Then the line jerked and his pole fell off it's prop. Stretching low and fast like a cat, Ben gripped the pole before it fell off the deck. I laughed at his sprawl, his bucket rolling into the ocean and riding on the waves four feet below. He cursed and reeled, keeping the fish on the line and eying the bucket for drift. I reeled in my own pole and while he fought his fish into the dock, I used mine to hook the handle on the bucket and drag it over to the ladder.

"It can't be that small," Ben groaned, the silver fish coming up in a leap. "It fought like a monster."

"Making fish stories?" Kit approached. Coop trotted up the dock to great him.

"Hey, Tory, it's nine-thirty. You got until ten."

"Yep, sure thing," I chirped wondering exactly how much he'd seen. Thankfully, it was getting darker by the moment and maybe my flush would fade before Ben had the fish unhooked and back in the water. Kit lingered, like he wanted to burn my scarlet permanently into my skin.

Coop circled around me, watching Ben's fish come up over the edge of the dock. It flipped and kicked it's tail wildly, still fighting in the air. Ben grabbed it and balanced his pole against his side. He grinned while he examined his catch.

"What is it?" I asked more to pull me away from Kit who just wouldn't disappear.

"Croaker," he held it up, holding it by it's mouth.

"Cute."

"People usually say, 'a beauty' but I don't think 'cute' is really a term for fish."

"Maybe I wasn't talking about the fish," I grinned. Ben rolled his eyes and tucked his hair behind his ear. Definitely cute. "Well, mercy or no?"

Ben glanced at the bucket and then back to the fish. "It's not my favorite," he lied and tossed it back into the oceans.

He wiped his hands on his pants, glanced at the path up to the condos and found it vacant. "Before anything else gets in the way—" he took the two steps he needed and crushed his lips into mine. His lips were tight with an exhilarated smile and his hands firm in how they held me still. Maybe it would be an awkward transition, but having that first real kiss out of the way was a big start.

**Comments are life, comments are love, comments keep me writing. :)**


	2. Flat Tire

**Tumblr prompt: Hair stroking...**

.

Ben bent his knees and gripped the tire iron then lifted on the folcrum. He strained against the lug nut using all the power of his legs to push. Tory watched him in the mirror, feeling the push of his weight against the Explorer rocking it up and down. She felt the shift of the vehicle and watched him fly backwards into the ditch. She was out of the car and heading towards him, the rain soaking her in an instant.

His angry, guttural scream gave her pause. She observed from the shoulder. Sitting waste deep in the drainage ditch, he examined the tire iron still clutched in his hand. He pushed himself up and threw it out into the trees. The head of the lever was still perched on the unmoving lug nut.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"No. Yes. No," he was breathing hard and still looking along the trajectory of his broken tool. "Get back in the car."

Tory glanced down at her already soaked clothes and then at him fighting the loose gravel of the ditch and opted to offer him a hand instead. He took it, although not when it was first offered, but after a few more slipping steps. When she had him on the shoulder, he didn't look at her.

Setting back to his task, he lowered the jack and packed it away into the back. Under the back hatch lid, he stood with his hands on his hips, still fuming, still avoiding her eye. Still prideful and angry and with every intention of receding into himself. A month ago, she would have slunk back to the font seat and let him cool off on his own schedule. She would have called her dad and gotten his Triple A number and made the arrangements. A month ago, she was Ben's friend Tory. Now, she could sense she had a slight opportunity to mend Ben's foul mood.

She stepped under the overhang and Ben fell back, leaning just under the drips that came through where the hatch met the roof. He pursed his lips and crossed his arms. She stepped so her feet were between his, her thighs touching just a moment before her arms circled around him. One breath, then another, and the warmth of his angry body steamed into hers. Then a third breath and his arms looped around her back and his cheek found a comfortable spot on top of her head.

Tory pulled away and hopped up into the car, pulling his arm so he faced her. A small smile attempted to overtake his lips, but failed. His hair clung to his face, wrapping under his chin and sticking to his neck. Tory wanted to push it behind his ear. She'd wanted to touch his hair and his face and to clear the clouds so many times before even if she denied it to her self for most of a year. The shift in their relationship emboldened her instincts. She lifted her right hand to his left temple and racked fingernails against his scalp. His think, straight strands tried to stay suctioned to his skin, a few passes were necessary to set them right. But she couldn't stop. One grazing fingernail along the roots behind his ear and his eyes fluttered closed, his lips parted just slightly, and he leaned into her for a delicate kiss forgetting the rain and the mud and mostly just ignoring the still flat tire.

Please read and review. :)


	3. Event Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is going to veer into M territory. If that's not your thing, just skip it.

**Continuation on Ben and Tory's relationship, a couple years down the road. Enjoy. (This is gonna be technically M, but if you're not ok with that, just skip it).**

I have been plotting this occasion for at least three months. I made an appointment, got pills, got condoms. I read an encyclopedia sized share of Reddit forums and even watched some porn. No one in the history of the world was more prepared for their first sexual experience than I was. But, it seems, no other teenager had the same bad luck. I needed one night where Kit and Whitney were away, or a solid alibi to stay in Ben's dorm room unnoticed. The later would require a reason to have my car but not come home. Of course, I also needed Ben's availability–hard in his second semester of College. So I knew it might take a bit for all the stars to align. I prepared the best I could and then waited for opportunity.

Kit had a conference, last minute. Call the boy, set up a date, review my notes. Whitney decided not to go because of the weather. We watched a documentary for his humanities class on the couch while eating Whitney's salt-water-taffy. Not a horrible consolation.

Second attempt: I arranged for Ella to cover on a Friday night knowing the Magnolia League could use my truck in the morning. The timing would be tight, but doable. And then my alternator stranded me at the gas station next to Ella's neighborhood and thankfully not in the middle of the two hour drive to Conway.

Kit and Whitney were off to a bed and breakfast for a weekend getaway. Ben, none the wiser, canceled so he could see a band with his roommates.

Everything lined up, finally. And I started my period. At least on that occasion, Ben still didn't know and there weren't any dashed expectations.

Finally, another shot arrived. Kit at a conference, Whitney with him, stranded by a storm flights canceled, trip extended. Ben reluctantly considered my offer to stay over. His dad being a few doors down didn't exactly make him easy to sneak in and out. Everyone knew his explorer, loose lips could sink the ship, so to speak. One mention by anyone in the complex - all of whom worked for my dad - and I'd be sitting at the kitchen table discussing broken rules.

"Just come over. We can play some games with me and the guys," I begged him on the phone.

"Yeah, okay. That sounds fun. Things are dead up here anyways. I'll let my dad know."

"No! Surprise him." I almost shout into the phone. He doesn't even need to see my face to know I have motives beyond game night.

"Tory, it's against the rules."

"The rules are dumb."

"But, they're the rules. And when we break the rules, I don't get to see you. And I really, really like seeing you."

"Remember when we stole historic artifacts from a museum?"

He sighed, heavy and near resignation. All he needed was a little logic to push him over the edge.

"Kit and Whitney are stuck in San Francisco. They're re-booked on a flight at nine AM, which is noon here. They won't be home before six."

A long pause audible breathing followed, then short and sweet, "Fine. But if we get caught…"

"I'll do your O-Chem homework. See you in a bit?"

"I'll come in by sea." He purred on the line.

One downside to being Ben was that he was stuck dating a girl two years younger. I didn't believe Kit when we first talked about it, but he was right. At fifteen, I wasn't ready for the physical side of a relationship. And at seventeen, Ben was. I guess, to be fair, Ben never called it a downside or complained or pressured. Occasionally, he'd get caught up in the moment and find a boundary I didn't know I had. But never once did saying stop or no become an issue. I guess it helps that I knew from the start that he loved me, he'd told me but I'd also felt it when we shared our pack connection. On the physical side, I called the shots and Ben seemed happy for the shared experiences. I'm finishing up my senior year now, and he's at college, a freshman. It may have taken almost two years for us to get to third base, but when we got there it really bashed all the barriers. I had a one track mind ever since.

"So, is it Ticket to Ride or Pandemic?" Ben shook each box in time with its name.

"Ticket to Ride, every span of track you take of clothing."

Ben blushed and nodded. "Better wear layers or Hi's getting a free show." He set up the board. I gathered my nerve and had settled on playing at least one round. Don't judge, board games can be sexy… To us.

"Oh, they're not coming," I admitted, as casual as possible.

Ben straightened and looked at me, glanced at the door, listened to the empty house, looked at his bag of overnight things by the stairs, and then squared up to me. "What's on your mind, Tory?"

"Well, if I've convinced you to stay… then I wanted you to myself for once." I pulled his hand and pushed it to my back, his other matched it and he held me. I drew long kisses out of his lips and slid my hands down to the hem of his shirt and up against his stomach. Solid muscles and a little bit of hair on his lower stomach. More kissing, more of my hands exploring, his hands still as statues on my lower back his shoulders stiff. "Relax."

Maybe a change in venue would help. I stepped away from the kitchen and to the stairs. I grabbed his bag and pushed it into his arms, walking ahead of him up to the third floor. He looked around my room for the first time in years. One of Kit's rules had eliminated boys from my bedroom. Ben took it in. I hoped he didn't linger on the stack of wolf stuffed animals on the chair. Maybe that was too childish, but I didn't really think he'd be so hesitant.

Returning to the threshold, I pulled him in and shut the door between us and Coop, no dogs allowed, not for this. He set his bag on my desk chair and looked stricken. His eyes examined me, looked for cracks and clues. I sat on the bed and pulled him towards me. He followed, still mechanical. I kicked off my shoes and told him to do the same. He complied. Then I tried to peel up his shirt.

"Time out, Tory. Seriously, where are we going with this?"

I couldn't say it brashly like I knew he would, he never wasted much on tact. So I decided to go the obvious route. I reached over to my desk and pulled out a condom and held it in my hands between us. We locked eyes. His face asked me what I wanted. I nodded. He nodded back. We didn't always need words, we knew each other so well. I tossed the pouch on the center of the bed and lifted my shirt up over my head. Bikinis show more than my bra, but he still looked at me like he'd never seen me so naked. Like a gentleman, his eyes shot up to my face and his cheeks reddened and bled down into his chest. I touched his shirt again, pulling it up, he flicked it over his head. I swept hair back from his face and behind his ear, pulling his face to mine. His heart was hammering in his chest, his skin was five degrees hotter than usual. And, his hesitation was gone.

Ben touched me with his full hands and his fingertips. His lips hunted for my ear and the ticklish points on my neck. His body pressed mine like he was proving I would say stop. I met him at every turn. Naked and panting, he dry humped my thigh and I reached between us and touched him until he whimpered. He came to a rest, beaten at his own game. We still hadn't said a single thing. I pulled the condom out from under my shoulder where it had been crinkling for a half hour. I passed it to him.

Ben, sitting up between my legs was a sight. Cute. Muscled. Pretty eyes that looked so soft and somewhat worried.

"It's okay. I want to," I assured him, rubbing my calf up his leg to his side.

"There's no going back."

"Then let's go forward. Chop, chop," I motioned for him to hurry, smiling. He laughed. He relaxed. He applied the condom and started to lower himself back. "No, not yet. Can you touch me and then when I say I'm ready, then. Okay? Foreplay is key."

"Research?" He asked, hand sliding down my leg to my vulva.

He repeated his earlier touches carefully and without breaking eye contact. I didn't have quite the same resolve. What was my face supposed to look like? TV orgasms had wide open mouths and some tongue flicking around lips or pinched eyes or gaping-O-moans, and screaming. Under his scrutiny, I just hoped it wasn't an ugly face like Claire Danes crying or anything. He looked less than confident in what he was doing so I tried the lip biting and licking thing to give him some indication that I appreciate the effort. And man, I was appreciating it. Once before, several weeks back, in the back seat of his Explorer, he'd been touching me much like he was – but in a much more cumbersome position. This feeling came over me all a sudden. I needed more. I needed something bigger and stronger and different than just one finger and a fast circling thumb. I was waiting for that feeling, that surely was when it was supposed to happen, when my body asked for it. As soon as that thought came through my mind I could feel the tingling start under his fingertips and swimming deeper into my flesh.

"Ben?"

"Yeah?"

"Now, I want you now." I pulled on his arm, he followed it, fast and blinking like he didn't realize we'd get here that this would actually happen and then it was.

Slowly and with a soft, surprised moan, Ben was pushing past the throbbing need and fulfilling it. My hand replaced his thumb, circling my clitoris like a Cosmo sex tip and what followed was an intense and encompassing orgasm. No time to contemplate my O-face. What ever it was would be scalded into Ben's brain, because he was looking at me like a girl possessed. I held his hips still and I worked mine up against him to the pulse of what my body wanted and I took it from him. No machismo needed in my first experience, I was more than happy to have it covered. The tingling radiated out and pulsed in smaller and smaller bursts and I came to a still, panting, mess under him.

"For real?" he laughed, and despite all my effort and preparation, he sure seemed proud of himself.

I nodded and released my grip on his hip. He took this as a sign that he could continue and that's when I discovered exactly how shallow our coupling had been. More or less, there was an uncomfortable point in my canal, obviously the tenuous tissues of my hymen in the way of Ben's perfectly ready erection. From the forums, I figured out that he could probably feel it as much as I could. But there wasn't so much as a pause on his part before the subtle burn of him fully encased inside me. He pulled back and the ache seared like a new burn.

"Slow!" I grabbed his shoulders. This was his part and even if it stung and chased the orgasm from my immediate mind, I couldn't deny him his own release.

A slow kiss and still hips. Then a stroke that moved millimeters and arms gathering me into him, holding me around my shoulders and cupping the back of my neck. One slow stroke, another, a groan that made my chest ripple in affection. Kisses and a tight hug of protective Ben, always here for me and entranced in the act of making love to me. And it felt good. Not building to an orgasm good, but a solid hug and comfort good. Like a lucid dream in the morning where you can fly and eat all the dessert you want, that sort of good. It felt like the nervous system equivalent of the love I'd always shared with him. In short, it was safety, warmth, and perfect.

**Leave a comment if you like it.**


End file.
